


the sound of a breaking heart

by sparrowinsky



Series: sunder [1]
Category: District 9 (2009)
Genre: Aliens, Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Prawns, prawnkus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-28
Updated: 2009-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-03 21:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowinsky/pseuds/sparrowinsky





	the sound of a breaking heart

It's like carrying a child, she thinks, the way the disgust and fear sit heavy in her middle.

(She'll never have children.)

She's done the right thing. Every day, she goes to work. She lives her life. Sometimes she even smiles.

So it is not fair, not fair at all, that she comes home to a prawn sitting on her bed-- her _bed_!--

\--oh.

Holding a bouquet of metal roses.

Everything breaks with a rushing feeling-- sound-- she's sure she can hear it-- she's stumbling, falling--

The prawn darts up, scattering the roses, to catch her. She finds herself eye to eye with it, its tentacles flicking softly. It's nauseating. She could weep.

Instead she asks: "Wikus?"

It couldn't be, it's an insane hope-- fear-- she should be worried about how a prawn _got_ here--

"I'm sorry," it clicks. "I missed you."

\------

She shutters every window, locks every door, takes the phone off the hook. To protect him. And to breathe without those yellow eyes watching her every move.

She finds him crouched in the kitchen, staring the cat away from it's dish.

"I--" --can't believe I'm saying this-- "--I could get you a can. Wikus."

He glances to her without moving a muscle, or what passes for it in a prawn.

"Yes." And he rises, quickly, towering over her.

She ignores the soft, familiar flutter in her stomach.

It is _not_ Wikus, she tells herself. Even if it is.

\------

Wikus tried to teach her to understand the strange, animal-like prawn language, but she'd never seen how it could matter to her. She can make out some of it, but the rest is just clicks and whistles and grunts, nothing like the soft voice she remembers. Yellow eyes track her face like blue ones did.

He is explaining-- she thinks. She can make out ship; and home; and it is far too much to watch him scoop out the contents of a can with one huge claw. She needs to lie down.

He doesn't question her sudden rise from the table. She curls under her mother's afghan on the bed, trying not to cry. If she starts crying, she might not ever stop.

Maybe if she just stays here, he'll go away.

Instead he putters around for a while, making indistinct noises she can't quite define, soft clankings and thumps as if he's moving furniture.

She's almost asleep in spite of everything when a heavy warmth slides into bed with her. He hesistates, just a moment, before resting one long arm over her.

It's the first time in a long time Tania falls asleep to something besides the sound of an empty bed.


End file.
